


Put On A Show

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gags, M/M, Master/Slave, Mirror Universe, Muzzles, O-ring gag, Ring gag, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In the mirrorverse, Captain Spock must demonstrate to the admiralty that he's keeping his pet in line.
Relationships: Mirror James T. Kirk/Mirror Spock
Kudos: 17
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	Put On A Show

The view screen is on, and Kirk feels the weight of their invisible audience. To the left of the command chair stands an imperial appraiser. Spock sits in the center, straight-backed and comfortable, as the light reflects off his gold Captain's shirt.

Aside from the three of them, the bridge is empty. The Enterprise is in orbit above Risa for shore time- selling off those who were enslaved in the latest revolt, and bringing in new hands where necessary. Indentured servants, no doubt; there are hardly any free men on Risa who could be persuaded to part with their riches and pleasure. Still, life on a starship is cushy for some.

Kirk glowers at Spock, and shifts his weight uncomfortably. He's been forced to kneel beside the command chair, his head bound by a leather muzzle. The device is secured by a simple strap which loops around the back of his head, and yet he can't move his jaw more than a centimeter.

Above him, the imperial appraiser is chatting away amiably.

"As he continues to be uncooperative, may I suggest that you send him to a reformer? It's better than attempting to train him yourself."

"No."

If Kirk didn't know better, he'd assume Spock was bored.

"Very well, Captain. Still, the biting continues to be an issue. A muzzle is hardly a perfect solution for the bedroom. Perhaps we could remove his teeth? It's very popular on Risa."

Kirk's eyes widen. Spock stares down at him with a fiery intensity, as if the idea tempts him, and heat floods Kirk's cheeks. Still, Spock shakes his head.

"We are neither in a bedroom, nor on Risa. I have another method in mind."

"Of course. I forget, you are... Vulcan." He says it with distaste, as if he's more used to considering Vulcan traits in the context of how best to exploit them for their masters. Which, of course, he is.

In any other situation, Spock would be a slave. Still, his half-human heritage allows him more rights than his Vulcan brethren, and his mother was an important member of the imperial fleet. Once Spock joined, he rose quickly through the ranks.

Spock hums at the appraiser. "Leave us." His fingers curl around the leather strap. "Though I don't intend to beam down to the planet; I have pleasure plans of my own."

The appraiser bows lowly, and his footsteps echo through the room. Spock tightens his grip on the muzzle, and the leather bites into Jim's cheeks. The throne room doors close with a slam, and Spock's grip relaxes, just a fraction.

Kirk's heart begins pounding. This is the first time they've been alone together since his enslavement, which much mean-

The second the muzzle is removed, Kirk snaps at Spock's fingers, as is custom. There's a tightness in his stomach, revulsion at having been reduced to this so quickly. A feral animal. Spock chuckles, and pushes him down with his foot.

"Speak."

For a second, Kirk considers barking like a dog. But that no longer feels defiant, given the muzzle, and the collar, and the almost constant kneeling. He whets his lips.

"Go fuck yourself."

Spock scratches his beard. "I certainly intend to fuck _something_."

Kirk swallows, his hands balled into fists, as Spock clambers off the command chair.

"Open your mouth."

Kirk shakes his head, and Spock turns his back on him, searching through a satchel which is slung over the chair. There's a clink of metal, and Spock removes a gag with an O-shaped ring; a perfect circle.

"An alternative to removing all your teeth," Spock says, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.

Again, Kirk shakes his head.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "You don't believe I would do it?"

Kirk shrugs, and raises his own brow in response.

Spock sighs. "You have been unduly difficult these past weeks."

"You took my ship," Kirk spits.

In an instant, Spock's hands are in his mouth, wrestling the O-ring into place. Kirk gnashes his teeth and fights furiously to get it out, to no avail. The Vulcan has him pinned with a knee to the chest, one hand more than enough to secure his jaw, and Kirk makes an ungodly noise. He pushes at the bit with his tongue, but finds no purchase. His tongue glances off the slippery metal again and again, sliding through the centre, no doubt poking through the hole.

By the time he extricates his tongue, the gag has been secured around him, and he gasps for air. The gag doesn't constrict oxygen, and its purpose is clear. The ring sits, snugly, just behind his teeth, and, for a split second, Kirk wonders if it would perhaps have better to remove them. If it were Kirk's slave, he wouldn't hesitate. Still, perhaps- if it were Spock- he would have had some reservations.

He wonders if he would have had the strength to kill him, or if he, like Spock, would have been doomed to enslave his once- loyal friend.

Spock places kirk's hands on his hips, and opens his pants. He frees his cock quickly, already erect, and forces the tip past Kirk's lips. At first, he feels nothing- just the slight shift of the ring as the cock grazes it- and the slave goes cross-eyed trying to watch it.

Kirk must move more than he intended, because Spock grabs a fistful of his hair to secure him, and sinks deeper. Kirk breathes shallowly, attempts to pull away, but Spock strokes his cheek. He's flooded by a rush of affection, and closes his eyes at the contact. A smattering of thoughts break though the skin. _Ashayam, I cherish thee._ Kirk resists the urge to nuzzle his hand.

They need to put on a show.

Kirk makes a pitiful sound, but it's very muffled. He begins to suck at Spock's tip as much as he can, though the ring robs him of much control of his mouth. Kirk tightens his grip on Spock's hips, winding his fingers into the belt loops on either side.

Spock pushes deeper, and Kirk continues his pretense of struggle until his his throat constricts. It wasn't his plan, but his gag reflex kicks in, and it's only Spock's splayed hand which prevents it from being worse. As Spock sinks into Kirk's throat he initiates a shallow meld, and Kirk breathes shakily through his nose.

"You're a natural, Kirk," says Spock. "You were wasted as a Captain. It's like you were made to take my cock."

Kirk doesn't bother to protest. Spock is buried deep in his throat now, his balls nudging the edge of the ring, and Kirk eases his tongue out to meet them. Spock sags slightly.

"That's right, Kirk. Please your master."

Kirk manages the faintst whimper in reply, strained beyond measure, and laves Spock's testicles with one, one trembling stroke.

"Another."

He sobs, and does as he's told, as every part of him quivers. Spock begins to buck gently against him, in and out. Every jerk knocks the O-ring against the roof of Kirk's mouth. Kirk attempts, desperately, to breathe, as he alternates between choking and sucking, lapping at Spock's balls where he can and practises the appearance of a tortured slave.

Spock whispers words of encouragement, spoken words of praise in favour of the empire, as if Kirk's mouth alone can bring glory to them. Then, finally, relentlessly, Spkck comes with a hiss, his breath catching in his throat as he makes little moans. He tangles his fingers in Kirk's hair as Kirk chokes back his come. His world shrinks to just the two of them, and, for a moment, Kirk believes that his mouth really can challenge empires. Then, he's choking again; the girth of the ring too much to handle.

Gentle, almost patronising hands pat his head, fumbling with straps as the gag suddenly turns loose 

"Shh. There." He slips the ring from his mouth, and allows it to clatter to the floor. "You are learning obedience."

Spock glances up at the view screen, as if noticing it for the first time.

"Computer, end transmission."

The view screen clicks off.

Kirk slumps to the ground, spent, as strong arms catch him.

"I believe that will satisfy imperial command for another week," Spock says, breathlessly.

Kirk nods his agreement. One more week.

The Admiralty won't know what hit them.


End file.
